


It's not cheating if you wash away the evidence afterward.

by lone_lilly



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-09
Updated: 2006-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lone_lilly/pseuds/lone_lilly





	It's not cheating if you wash away the evidence afterward.

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[ga: derek](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/ga:+derek), [ga: derek/meredith](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/ga:+derek/meredith), [ga: meredith](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/ga:+meredith), [grey's anatomy](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/grey%27s+anatomy), [porn challenge](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/tag/porn+challenge)  
  
  
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It's not cheating if you wash away the evidence afterward. [grey's anatomy porn battle.]

**Title:** It's not cheating if you wash away the evidence afterward.  
**Fandom:** _Grey's Anatomy_  
**Characters:** Derek/Meredith.  
**Word Count:** 669.  
**Rating:** NC-17.

[for the _Grey's Anatomy_ porn battle](http://pirateygoodness.livejournal.com/37705.html). Thanks to [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/pirateygoodness/profile)[**pirateygoodness**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/pirateygoodness/) for the beta.

When Derek jerks off, hand splayed against the shower wall, bracing himself as the other hand works up and down his dick, he thinks of a sailboat.

He can see it so clearly: white sails gleaming in the sun, the blue-green of the Pacific spreading out as far as the horizon. He can see himself sitting on the deck, drinking a beer, fishing, teasing the girl stretched out beside him.

Her bikini would be a pale green that made her eyes sparkle and her skin would be glistening with sunscreen and sweat.

She'd shoot him a glare when he said she was starting to look a little pink and then he'd watch her rise from the chair, all slender limbs and graceful movements. He'd know he was forgiven when she asked if he wanted another beer, and she'd smile radiantly at him to let him know she was happy.

Sometimes it's enough for Derek, in the tiny shower made for one in his trailer, to picture her there on that sailboat, pretty and smiling and his.

But sometimes he needs more, so he imagines himself reaching out to catch her wrist before she can get too far away, pulling her into his lap.

"I thought you wanted more beer," she'd giggle, her tiny hands resting on his shoulders to steady herself.

"I've got beer," he'd reply, and then he'd press the chilled bottle against the bare skin of her stomach or her collarbone just to see her squirm.

That's the part in his fantasy where idle arousal from watching her all day shifts into something more desperate. At home in his shower he has to squeeze the base of his length because he's already too hard, too close.

He imagines her skin would be warmed from an afternoon underneath the sun, and he's certain he'd taste coconut when he licked away the condensation the bottle had left behind.

She'd moan and sigh when he kissed his way from her neck to her chest, arching into his hand when he peeled her bikini top away from one breast. He would lick and suckle her until she was rocking against him, the two thin layers of clothing doing nothing to ease the friction of her body writhing against his erection.

He'll change this part around depending on the mood he's in. Sometimes she'd pull him out of his swim trunks, her fingers sliding up and down and around him, her thumb sweeping over the head, making him groan. Other times he'd do it himself, untying her swimsuit bottom with his other hand.

Either way it's not long before he'd push himself inside her, so wet and tight she makes him hiss out loud in his shower and he bites his tongue to keep from making any more noise.

Meredith likes being in charge but it's his boat and his fantasy, so he'd set the pace, his hands firm on her hips as she moved on top of him.

He wouldn't kiss her when his thumb slid down to her clit, circling the little bundle of nerves that pulsed there because he'd want to watch her. Her shoulders would tense and her face would turn toward the sky, her eyes closed and her mouth open in a wondrous smile.

He always has to speed this part of the fantasy up, get her off quickly because when she came, so did he. So he imagines the way she'd writhe on top of him, bouncing a little as her breathing hitched, and the way her inner walls clenched around him, and how her fingernails would dig into his shoulder.

He has to turn his head, press his face to his arm so he can muffle his groans as his fingers coax his orgasm from him. When it's over and the water has washed away his fantasy, he keeps standing there, playing back some of the images in his head.

He thinks Meredith would have liked sailing. And who knows? Maybe he'd buy that boat one day after all.


End file.
